We got the Courtroom. Check. We got the Judge. Check. We got the Innocent-Till-Proven-Guilty…don’t we??? That is when the fun began because he-thought-she-thought-they-thought…
Wasn’t it someone else’s Job Description to actually bring the accused from the local holding cell to his arraignment? Seems everyone was so busy busting their chops to arrive early to meet the newly assigned Miss-Here-Comes-the-Judge that one worrisome detail was neglected… transporting the Innocent-Till-Proven-Guilty.
Trying to wear her very best poker face, Miss-Here-Comes-the-Judge asked which prison official had the duty to ensure the Innocent-Till-Proven-Guilty made it to court? Easy answer …It was George-Come-Lately…but today was the first day of the hunting season and well, that was like as sanctified (in his mind) as a Pilgrimage to Mecca, or like Lent to a Catholic. No way he and his buddies would be anywhere but the back country in their neon colored hunting jackets with reflective strips, matching caps, long barreled hunting rifles religiously ensconced in slings. Safety first…always…Safety First…
Miss-Here-Comes-the-Judge sighed (or was it a scoff) and asked who was cross-trained in that event? Bewildered, the local constabulary gazed back at her – the Officer-That- Laid-the-Charges, the Crown Attorney who would go to the ends of the earth to keep his Stats at ZERO losses and the Court Appointed Paid From the Public Purse Defence Lawyer, who had no skin in the game but it did guarantee him some paid legal fees…and of course, the town folk, split in to two factions…a small group of members of the Secret Society of Scryers (who supported the former Judge) and dared show their unrepentant faces. Then, those that embraced the Innocent-Till-Proven-Guilty and like an Amish Zealot, shunning the English, they shunned the Establishment and its trappings.
Now, you know and I know the former Judge, who knew when a butterfly flapped his wings, in this town, (still does) would have been sure all the bases were covered, tasks assigned. Even his naysayers admitted (grudgingly) that his courtroom ran like clockwork….seemed Miss-Here-Comes-the-Judge had some learning to do about this part of the country. The simple life…well, it is not so simple.
The Crown Attorney puffed out his chest recommended ‘someone’ just phone the Warden and have Innocent-Till-Proven-Guilty sent over to the Courthouse.
At that point the Officer-That-Laid-the-Charges jumped up and said it would be more efficient if he’d just crossed the street and walked the prisoner out of jail, across the four lane highway, with cars whizzing past like they were on the Autobahn, and up the Courtroom steps. No way he’d put leg shackles on Innocent-Till-Proven-Guilty. It would be tricky enough without that. Okay, okay, he’d make sure the handcuffs were on securely but this was Farmer Joe’s son….he wasn’t going to pull any funny stuff….and if he did, well, the Officer-That- Laid-the-Charges had a gun….not that he would have to use it, you understand.
Miss-Here-Comes-the-Judge looked at the Crown Attorney, the Defence Lawyer, asked the Officer-That- Laid-the-Charges how long it would take to complete his delivery of the accused, banged her gavel and said, ‘Court is Adjourned till Mission Accomplished’, stood up abruptly, barged through the swinging door behind her, into the sanctity of her chambers.
A quick scan around the courtroom saw smirks and grins, even some guffaws on the faces of not only on the Crown Attorney, the Defence Lawyer, the Officer-That- Laid-the-Charges but also on the members of the Secret Society of Scryers and the town folk that shunned the Establishment and its trappings. It seemed though they had opposing view points, their sense of humour
was still in sync.
It was going to be a steep learning curve for Miss-Here-Comes-the-Judge…not like anyone would put a hand out to help her…and if she put her hand out….well, don’t be shocked if someone (accidentally, I am sure, totally), stepped on it….
Because… you not kin…. you not in…. even worse if you’re a ‘Come from Away’…Cuz that is how we roll…in the country.
